


Perihelion

by girl_wonder



Category: Match Point
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_wonder/pseuds/girl_wonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afterwards, he wondered if it mattered at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perihelion

Title: Perihelion  
Author: fryadvocate  
Fandom: Match Point  
Summary: Afterwards he wondered if it mattered.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Tom said, Oh, _do_ , in a way that no one wanted to admit he'd picked up from Nola. Every time he paused, the odd American emphasis exaggerated by his accent, his hair, his lips, Chris's whole spine shivered. It seemed to coil in on itself, and he would smile lightly to cover the way he wanted to grimace.

Chris said, I couldn't possibly.

In Chloe's arms the baby screamed, a loud sound that he was sure had not come from the Hewitt side of the family, but rather his, his of tight pebbled streets and women hardly older than his sister carrying around babies like a required appendage. He wondered if he had loved Chloe when he gave her that baby or if love had kept him from giving her the child for so long. He wondered if he could buy that sweater that the boy at the next table was wearing. He wondered if he should change the font on his business cards.

We'll be fine, Chloe said, not really looking at him. Her hand was on top of his, but lightly, ready to rescue their child at the first hint of instability. You go, she said, her smile doting.

He lifted her hand, kissed the fingers, kissed away the smell of baby powder to the soft scent of anti-allergenic lotion underneath. He closed his eyes, still could not pretend it was Nola.

He's so sweet, Chloe said to her brother and his wife. He's always worrying, so wonderful. I couldn't ask for a better husband.

Chris did not say, of course not. I am the husband you always wanted, don't pretend we're all still surprised that I work in your father's office and it's my son in your arms. Chris smiled quietly, because he must be loud in the office, quiet at home, he must be doting, he must not look up when Tom's hand found his knee under the table for one quick touch.

Fine, Chris said. I'll go, but I'll call every day. Every hour, he amended, smiling. For half a minute, he liked the way that Chloe's hair was falling out of her pony tail, the way her eyes caught on his lips, then eyes.

You'll miss us, she asked. Oh, do, she said without the Nola emphasis and he echoed with love.

*****

Tokyo was crowded, but he and Tom were tall in England, taller here, and he bowed with grace, spoke Japanese with what he knew was an accent. Of course, we will need numbers, he said in English.

The translator was a petite woman, wearing an austere gray pinstripe business suit that did not hide her slenderness, the grace of her neck, the shine of her hair. He didn't need to look at Tom to know that he was admiring, too.

Tom said, You can send those numbers over to our hotel. Why don't we break for the day? It was not a question. At lunch, Tom had had a salad as appetizer and fish. He liked Japanese food, he admitted, but they had the most amazing fish here, with a tilt of hid head he had indicated the kitchen.

The napkins had been deep red, matching the white tablecloths by their contrast. Chris had had a soup, something designed by the French cooking staff, but which used ingredients he had found were always the most fresh in Japan. When he had finished, he had wiped his bottom lip with the napkin, looked up in time to catch Tom staring the same way that Chloe did.

Do you think we'll finish early today? He'd asked.

I'm sure we will, Tom had said.

They never went into it openly, not since their first time, and maybe that was why he liked it. At least Tom was up front about what he wanted, and an open affair with his brother-in-law was not even on the list. Tom did not want more than this, and that was good, too. Unlike his sister, Tom did not hide his motives beneath the word love or the phrase if you want.

In his room, Tom poured them both scotch, a habit he'd picked up from his father. He had been into beer when they'd first met, and Chris sometimes missed the yeasty taste of it, but he enjoyed the burn of scotch more, the way it loosened his hips to a point only previously achieved after an especially long tennis match.

These things Chris had started doing with artful inattention: licking his lower lip, pulling his shirt down to scratch at his collarbone, tilting his head at a slight angle so that he appeared to listen when he wasn't.

Mostly they said the same things, anyway, repeating business numbers written down on the presentation handout, resumes rehashed, advertising campaigns reiterated. All of this could be done without any human contact. He would not miss it, although he was overly fond of Armani suits.

When he pulled off the suit jacket, he folded it carefully over the back of the suite's couch, his hand running down the lapel automatically. He took the tumbler that Tom handed him, loosening his tie with one finger and staring at Tom with interest.

Chris smiled when Tom did, on a face of less wealth it would have looked playful, on Tom it was expectant. Without the appearance of thought, Chris licked his lip.

*****

Alec did not pressure them about more children, but he doted on his three grandchildren. He said, Chris, how did Japan go?

Out of the boardroom setting he appeared to be honestly interested, to want to help. Chris did not imagine that this was true at all. He said, It seems like we'll be able to make a great profit. We do need to move more quickly than expected.

Smiling benevolently at the building block empires the children were constructing, Alec asked, And you and Tom will stay on top of it?

The Hewitt family had a beautiful habit of asking questions that weren't really questions at all.

Of course, Chris said.

*****

There was something in the way she was beginning to move that said, I want another baby. It was the way that the nurse insisted that it was time to wean the child. It was the way that she had casually left a strip of pink paint chips next to the morning paper.

Chris was careful not to bruise Tom anywhere obvious, he kept his fingers light, his mouth lighter. The only place he sucked hard, bit, pushed until the flesh turned red, then purple was on Tom's arm. Mine, he did not say. Tom looked down, frowned in the opposite of anger.

Why there? He asked, because Chris knew that he wouldn't have cared even if Chris had left clear fingerprint bruises on his hips, bite marks on his neck, raw strips of red down his back from where Chris had clawed.

You got it playing tennis, need to work with you some more, Chris said, very seriously.

Laughing, Tom said, Oh, yes, tennis. Let's finish up here and then we can go work on my serve, he said, gesturing, his hand included all of the business papers, their tennis bags by the door.

*****

After he said, It's been a long day, I just don't have it in me, Chloe said, Well, it's alright.

There were parts of her body that he still loved. He loved her ears, the soft place where her skin changed from neck to jawbone, the second knuckles on all of her fingers, the birthmark on her lower back. He did not love the way her eyes slid over him calculatingly.

He woke up the first time she kissed his chest. It had taken him a while to train himself not to jerk awake when her lips first touched his flesh, to instead open his eyes slowly, smile lazily. This time around he would not be as careless.

When she pulled down his boxers, straddling him as soon as she'd pushed them down to his knees, he didn't resist let her slide down and. oh.

He forgot how easy it was to want her.

*****

Sometime in between his scheduled manicure and the business meeting wrapping up the success that was the Japanese endeavor, he realized that it might just be possible that Chloe was having an affair with someone else.

He looked down, frowned when he realized that they'd put a touch of color into the gloss, looked back at the elevator numbers. The first thing he thought when he saw Tom was, he looks fuckable, the first thing he said was, I think Chloe may be having an affair.

As he expected, Tom looked devastated by the news. What makes you think that? Tom asked, barren of any emphasis but the expected British sympathy.

I, Chris stopped. Nothing, he finished a moment later. I'm must be going crazy.

Tom slapped his shoulder, Second kid, that's what doing it.

Chris nodded, made a note never to get that manicurist again, had his secretary set up a hair appointment.

*****

The trouble was that Chloe admitted it. Later, after she said that she'd ended it. It was nothing, nothing, she cried. The nanny left swiftly, closing the front door behind her.

It was because I thought you didn't love me anymore, she begged.

Chris wished that she had waited until after the nanny had left to start this. He thought, I should be angry, so he clenched his fist.

What he said was, I need time to think about this.

On his way out the door, he wiped away her tears with his white handkerchief, tucking it into her wanting hands.

*****

There was nothing for him to get over, but he pretended to. Said, I love you more than anything. Said, We'll get through this.

They had their second baby and then Tom and his wife divorced, and Tom got the children, of course.

Everything continued.

*****

end.


End file.
